Back to life......back to reality

The Power of Community

I write this entry from a hotel room in Manchester, UK.

It was a year ago that I was due to attend an event in this city called ServiceNorth. It was around that time that I was feeling unwell and had been to the doctor and received the results of my FIT test, telling me that I was on the two-week pathway to having a colonoscopy for suspected bowel cancer.

I didn’t attend the event.

My brain was all over the place. I was in absolute bits, and my world felt like it was crumbling around me.

Today was different. I was at the event exhibiting with Tim, a man who has stood right by my side for that year.

Thank you Tim!

I can’t lie. I was a little anxious before going to the event, nervous about talking to people about my current health, worried because I knew of at least one person who has a close family member dealing with bowel cancer, and anxious because I might bump into somebody, an incredible man whose diagnosis is so much more challenging to handle than mine.

Along with all of this, I simply hadn’t stood up for so long. As I was leaving home, I wasn’t sure about my mental state, and still not 100% sure about my physical state.

I was also unsure that the jeans I hadn’t worn for almost a year would stay comfy throughout the day - a real world problem.

Arriving at the venue, I immediately bumped into people who very, very kindly asked me how I am.

It may seem ironic to readers of this entry that I still feel a bit shy and slightly embarrassed about people knowing that I have and am dealing with bowel cancer.

You probably think he shouts about it from the rooftops, so it’s easy for him, but it’s not.

I write these diaries primarily to help myself with my mental challenges—to get it out and off my chest. Over time, long-term readers will know that these diaries have become something that continues to do that and, in doing so, might help others. However, I’m still incredibly uncomfortable talking about my diagnosis, treatment, and recovery face-to-face.

Believe it or not, I actually don’t like being the centre of attention, which may surprise some people. Today I was able to catch up with people who have been so supportive of me during this year-long period, I met many old and new faces.

It goes without saying that the gentleman with whom I work, Tim, is at the very top of that list. He has kept me working at my own pace throughout this year. He’s allowed me to do what I needed to do, and he’s always been there for me. And today I’m working for him, exhibiting at his stall, and looking to generate business for him and the organisation.

Then there is Katrina, the lady who wrote the foreword for Part 1 of these books.

Katrina is from Australia. We’ve kept in touch and shared our challenges. Seeing her face-to-face was absolutely marvellous. Alongside Katrina, I was able to meet two other people who have been very important on this journey:

Sandra, whose husband has been dealing with bowel cancer, and who herself has also been living with the disease, I completely empathise with her because, like my wife Emma, it’s incredibly hard to live with someone going through this.

Then there’s Steve, a man with a diagnosis quite different from mine, but who is always smiling whenever I see him. Steve, I said it on the night, and I genuinely mean it.

If you need me, I’m here.

All told, my worries were unfounded. What a day it was!

Lots of conversations about work, health, and everyday things, standard stuff, and I felt fantastic. It was so wonderful to see everyone, there are too many people to name, but I hope that if you’re reading this, you know who you are.

During this evening, a few of us went out for a drink and a bite to eat: people I know and others I didn’t know before tonight. I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard for at least a year!

Humour is such a great thing, but we just had this table of people where we all came from similar backgrounds, whether in age or outlook, and we all found the same things funny.

One day. I’d love to share what we discussed, but it’s too rude to put on Substack and LinkedIn; maybe it’s one for Part 3 of these diaries (Note: It will be in Part 3 - I just put it in there).

I guess it’s one of those ‘you had to be there’ moments, but it’s also the reason I chose to write this diary entry today, because I haven’t laughed that hard in so long, and it feels terrific to laugh again.

It does hurt, though.

Genuinely, my surgical site aches after so much laughter, but I suppose my point is, as I discussed with people at the event:

every day is a blessing

Life is indeed about making the most of it, and today, professionally, I feel like myself.

And personally, I think I’ve found some new friends, people who can make me laugh, and hopefully I do the same for them.

That’s what life is all about.

A year ago the world was falling apart around me, and here we are a year later, feeling so much better.

I also need to give a shout-out to the event for choosing McMillan as a charity partner. Steve and I, both of us suffering, felt we needed to do something to see if we could pull-in up more donations from the community. Steve and I stood up and, for a very brief moment, shared our stories with the audience and asked them to contribute to McMillan using the QR code in our hands.

In 5 minutes, that wonderful, wonderful community of people delivered, just as we knew they would delivering over £500 to the charity - in just those few minutes.

I’m still to look at what the total is this late at night, but that’s the closest I’ve come to crying in front of anybody in the last few months. It greatly moved Steve and I.

So I just want to say to Clare A, Dave A, Steph W, Claire, B, and all of you at SCOPISM: your event this week has been a massive turning point for me.

Your community and your conference. It’s incredible.

Thank you for having me there, and thank you to everybody there for making it such a great day.